How To Be Dead
by the-tangoing-mango-addict
Summary: 9 years in the future: Casey's world is spinning out of control: Derek is missing. The family is falling apart, while she's consumed by guilt. When did things go so wrong? Dasey.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The end.

I don't exactly know when it all began, all this mess. I don't think I can pin point the exact moment when everything was set into motion. It started after a series of so-called "accidents" that catalyzed a series of much more devastating events, happenings that were worse than any of us could have ever imagined. Before all of these occurrences, there had, of course, been happier times, when we all were still young. Young and naïve, that is. Things had been simpler for all of us, the whole family, back then. We only had to deal with a few minor crises, but nothing that could even compare to the calamities thereafter. And, whatever we might have had, came to a screeching halt, the curtains had fallen on our play.

I lied.

Although, previously I had stated there wasn't an exact moment when things started heading South, I lied. In truth it all started the moment I decided to go to that godforsaken party.

Sometimes I think this disaster was all my fault. I was, after all, the one who left everything so broken between us. If I had just forgiven him, swallowed my pride for once, had given him the second chance he had pleaded for, had given him the chance to explain, if I hadn't been so stubborn, then maybe, just maybe, all our issues could have been resolved.

Other times, I pin the blame on him. He committed that act of treachery, the one who tore us in two because of a mere fanciful whim. He is the one who set all the events, I am about to share, in motion.

I have hashed out the situation a million and three times over. I've assessed objectively and subjectively. I have surveyed the possibilities of motives and analyzed it all to the point where my head is overwhelmed with these dizzying thoughts: all this thinking has done, is send me around in circles, dishing blame to those who don't deserve it. These thoughts are the cause of my insomnia. I haven't had a good night's sleep in nine years. In the end three facts will always remain:

**One -** I haven't seen my stepbrother in over nine years, and there's a good chance I played a pivotal role in scaring him away. What's worse, he's probably never coming back.

**Two** - With my stepbrother's disappearance, our family has been torn apart, maybe for good. Little does my family know, I am most likely to blame for this havoc.

**Three** - I am hopelessly in love with the one person I never should have fallen for, my stepbrother.

Author's note: Just call me cryptic. Casey's POV, by the way. I hoped I have tickled your fancy. I have the plot all written up on paper. I just need to type it up in chapter formats =) Reviews are good for the soul.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One:

Casey sighed heavily as she collapsed onto the couch, completely exhausted. She looked around her new apartment with a strong sense of accomplishment. After a month of having crates and boxes hauled from her old apartment in Toronto to her new one in Montréal, she had unpacked the last of her belongings. Every last book had been meticulously organized onto the shelves (first alphabetized by the authors last name, then by date of publication); every piece of furniture found its perfect place in the apartment (the writing desk facing the window to catch the early morning light, the small TV hidden within the shelves of books).

She couldn't afford much, not after having just finished law school, but it was enough for her. With one open main area that served as a kitchen, dining room and living room all in one and two doors leading into the bedroom and bathroom respectively, the apartment was small, but cozy.

She had moved to Montréal to pursue work: better said she was offered a high-paying internship with Ogilvy Renault Law Firm under the environmental law branch. Casey was pleased to hear from the firm and seized the opportunity, even if it meant having to move further away from home again. She hadn't expected much coming out of law school, because for the first time she hadn't been top of her class. Even so, Nora and George couldn't have been more proud of her achievements.

As she closed her eyes, her thoughts began to drift: she thought of Lizzie and Edwin; they were seniors in college now. Where had the time gone? It seemed not long ago they had graduated from high school. Casey began to recall her days at college - they held the best and worst times of her life. And Derek.

Casey snapped her eyes open. No, she would not think of him. She jumped up off the couch and rubbed her eyes as if to push back the memories of _him. _She rubbed and rubbed until blue eyes were red and tears began to sneak out of the corners of her eyes. She let out another heavy sigh. How was it that he still could get to her after so many years? Why? It wasn't fair.

_C'mon Case, get a grip. He isn't even worth your tears, not anymore. _

Before she could shed another tear, she quickly changed into her pajamas and slipped into bed. She told herself, it was late and she was tired. She pulled the pink comforter tight around her as she bit her lip. Her vision was shrouded by the darkness, a small comfort to her. If she couldn't see anything, there would be nothing to remind her of him. The night enveloped her into its arms as her eyes became heavy.

"_DER-EK!" Casey's shout rang through the house. She stomped out of the bathroom clad in nothing more than a towel and threw open the door to her ever-detested step-brother's room with a loud BANG. And there she saw him, the bane of her existence, sprawled out on then mess that he claimed was his bed. The custom smug smirk was fixed upon his face._

"_Yes, sister-dearest?" He didn't look up from the magazine he was reading._

"_First off, I'm am not related to a mutant like you, so don't call me that…"_

"_Yes, sister dearest," he cocked his eyebrow, a signal indicating that this could only end with a battle of wits._

_Casey growled._

"_DER-EK! What did you do with my things?"_

"_I don't know what you're talking about?"_

"_Oh, don't act all innocent. You know full well what _you_ did with my shampoo! You put green dye in it, Derek! GREEN!"_

"_Oh, yeah, that. Yeah, I did do that, didn't I ?," That insufferable boy was proud of it? How was it possible? Casey huffed by the indignation of it all._

"_DER-EK!"_

"_Wow, it must be a record: three DER-EKs," he imitated her high-pitched shriek, "in just under a minute. Congratulations."_

_He moved to shake her hand. Unable to suppress her anger any longer and with clenched fists and jaw, Casey was about to lunge forward, just as her towel began to slip, did she remember she was in no attire to fight, physically at least. A glare would have to do, for now anyway. _

_Derek just lay on the bed, laughing at her antics._

"_You're going to regret this!"_

"_What are you going to do, talk me to death? Oh, I'm shaking," he taunted, his brown eyes twinkling with mirth. Languidly he stood up and stalked towards her, looking her directly in the eyes. "As far as I can see," he stepped closer, backing her against the wall, "You're in no position to fight with me right now. So why don't you just," Casey's back hit the wall, she flinched, but still remained in place, unable to break eye contact with Derek's intense stare, "walk away, before you hurt yourself."_

_He paused, enjoying the power he held over her in that moment. Her blue eyes were wide with fear, her arms crossed across her chest, holding the towel in place, which was dangerously slipping lower. Water droplets rolled off her shoulders, tracing down her chest only to disappear under the white towel. Her jaw was tense, her pink lips pressed tightly together. Yes, he had won the battle. With another smirk, he returned to his bed and picked up a comic book that he had abandoned before. _

"_Well, what are you waiting for, sister-dearest? Casey? Casey?"_

"Casey!"

Blue eyes snapped open. After a moment of regaining her senses, she heard the frantic pounding at the door and a distant voice calling her name from the other side of the door.

A/N: sooo...chapter the first is complete. How did you like it? I love reviews, they are always welcome. I'm aiming for 6 this chapter, do you think you guys can manage? I know you can! After important revelations, there will be more Casey's POV, a sort of insight/interludey-type thing. Most of it will be in third person though.

Also special thanks to bsloths, who left me a lovely review. S Girl, xhighflyerx, thank you for your reviews as well!


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

"Casey, are you alive in there? Casey, open the door now before I break in and-"

A sleepy figure donning pink pajamas and fluffy slippers shuffled to the door and opened it with a yawn. Before her stood a tall, thin man in a clean business suit. His face was pale with deep chocolate eyes that seemed almost black accompanied by thick eyebrows and a strong angular jaw. A thick set of brown hair was combed neatly into a part atop his head that projected such suaveness, it could have made James Bond jealous. He was by all means very masculine and quite attractive, but a dazzling smile completed the charm he held.

"No need to resort to drastic measures Ryan. I just over-slept."

"Again," Ryan smiled kindly, giving a sigh and a slight roll of his dark brown eyes, "Which is why I brought our morning coffee here, directly to your door," he gestured to the two full coffee mugs still steaming hot in his hand.

Nine years ago, anyone who knew Casey would have said it was physically impossible for Casey to be even a minute late. Nowaday it was merely a fact of life, a regular occurrence. Insomnia set in almost nightly, not allowing her to fall asleep until 3 or 4 in the morning. Luckily she had Ryan, her neighbor and friend to be her human alarm clock.

The day after she had moved into her apartment, Casey had heard a knock on her door. It had been Ryan, who had then formally introduced himself as Ryan Joshua Pratchett. Quirky and friendly enough, the two became fast friends. As Casey quickly found out, Ryan was extremely intelligent. He earned his masters degree in biochemistry and a PhD in Applied Mathematics by the time he was 26. They worked in the same district and made it a habit to enjoy some coffee early in the mornings before walking to work together. Often times they would spend their lunch break together, on a park bench in the plaza if the weather permitted or at their favorite little locale: Dillan's Diner. About once a week they would have dinner together or Ryan would show Casey the hot-spots around town. As smart as he was, Ryan also knew how to have a good time. He was able to make Casey forget all about the past and enjoy the present, even if it was only for a short while.

"Well, come on inside then from the cold, or lack there of."

"Someone's in a good mood this morning," sarcasm laced Ryan's voice. She stuck her tongue out at him and glared. He just laughed at her childish antics, following her back into the apartment from the dingy hall.

Casey was quite the sight to behold in the mornings, her hair sticking up in every direction, wrinkled pajamas and tired eyes.

"Make yourself at home," she yawned, "You know where everything is anyways."

"By everything you mean the sofa, fridge and coffee maker, don't you?"

"You know it. Help yourself. I need to get ready."

"As always."

Casey dragged her feet along the floor back into her bedroom, picking out work clothes from her closet. Her sleeping habits had forced her to become accustomed to getting ready in a timely manner. She had even made herself a list of outfit sets, pictures included, to be more efficient whenever insomnia took over her nights. The short mornings left no time to mix and match or to be too choosy. Casey would select an outfit from the list, put it on, brush her hair through and if time permitted apply some make-up. Today, just mascara would have to do.

From her bedroom she could hear Ryan rummaging around in the fridge. She rolled her eyes, stepping out into the main living space, now fully dressed.

"Ryan, how many times do I need to tell you, breakfast is unnecessary?"

"An infinite number. Casey, you need to eat more-"

"So you tell me every day," she threw him a disapproving glance, eyebrows raised. "You really know how to be a nuisance mister."

"You hurt me with your harsh words and yet I find myself still wanting to be your friend. Remind me again, why is that?" He asked playfully, shoving a piece of toast with jam into her one hand and her coffee into the other.

She just smiled, taking a bite of her toast, "Because you love me," and she whisked past Ryan out the door.

Two sets of feet hit the pavement in perfect unison with one another, weaving in out and out of the sea of city people who bustled by on their way to their respective jobs.

"So, I have to ask, what is it the keeps you up so late at night?" Ryan asked with interest over the din.

"Insomnia," Casey replied, feigning nonchalance but her shoulders tensed ever so slightly and her gaze shifted towards the ground. She didn't like where this route of questioning was headed.

Ryan didn't take notice of her discomfort and pursued his questions. "Have you tried taking anything for-"

Something in Casey snapped. "Look, just because you work at a pharmaceutical company doesn't mean you should peddle drugs to your friends!"

Truth be told, she had taken many types of sleeping pills, Ambien, Lunesta and their generics. None could suppress the thoughts whirling around in her mind. They just made her feel more depressed and hindered her from waking up in the morning.

"Whoa, touchy subject. Keeping questions to myself from now on."

"Sorry," she sighed, "I didn't mean to snap like that. It's just- I don't really like to talk about it."

"So there's an 'it', eh?"

"A 'him' too." Her hands covered her mouth. This was bad. She had said too much! She didn't want to talk about it.

"A 'him'! Should have known some guy swept you off your feet," Ryan tapped his nose knowingly, smiling at the nervous looking Casey. She still had her hands over her mouth. "So he's back in London then, eh? Long-distance relationship, or something?"

"Don't really know where he is actually." Again her hands flew up to her mouth. Why couldn't she keep her mouth shut? Now he would know. Know who exactly she was, her family. It had been all over the news- the incident, as Casey liked to call it. It wasn't exactly a situation that had been kept low key. "The incident" had made headlines of the daily news for weeks.

"Ehm…"

"I'm sorry, but I'd really prefer not to talk about this. And anyways, since when are you my psychologist?" she asked teasingly, trying to shift the focus away from the topic at hand.

"I am not a psychologist. That's a soft science and I'd prefer not to be associated with such unsubstantiated theories."

"Yeah, yeah Ryan. I know your whole shtick on psychologists, no need to be redundant."

She gave him a cheeky grin, as he pretended to be offended. Mission accomplished: the mood became lighthearted once more.

"Aren't we all snarky today, Case?"

"_CASEY! Where is my jersey?" Derek stalked through the house looking for the girl, who he knew just had to have her helping of revenge before bedtime. She always took things too seriously. He had expected her to figure it out before she actually used the shampoo. It was merely for the entertainment value of her getting angry._

_But this- this was going to far. His last big regional game was today- the one that would decide if his team would qualify to move on to the Championship Tournament, not to mention the fact that scouts would be watching too. His possibility of getting into a decent college seemed slim at best with his grades in a disarray, ergo a hockey scholarship was what he needed. He had to impress the scouts but he would be unable to do so without his lucky jersey. The jersey had lead him and his team to a winning streak of 5 games and had been unwashed since, as to ensure its pure, untainted luckiness. And now she had stolen it._

"_CASEY! Where are you? When I find you, I swear I'm going to –"_

"_Going to do what exactly?" He found the girl sitting cross-legged atop the washing machine filled with laundry, one eyebrow raised and smug smile in place. "Dye my hair green? Oh wait, you already tried that today and failed!"_

"_Aren't we all snarky today?"_

"_Yes, we are," she crossed her arms across her chest._

"_Look, I'm sorry about this morning but please just give me my jersey back," he pleaded in desperation. "You should know what it's like to be nervous-"_

"_So the Great Derek Venturi is finally fessing up. He gets nervous and needs a security blanket." Derek tried to interrupt as to dispute the fact that it was a security blanket, but the words died in his mouth before they could pass his lips. "Well too bad, Derek. For once, I win," and with that she leaned forward and pressed the START button on the washing machine. It whirred to life and a malicious, victorious smile lit up her face. Derek's eyes went wide with realization and fear._

"_You- you didn't!" he stammered in disbelief, "You wouldn't!"_

"_Oh, but I did!"_

"_You can't just wash my lucky jersey like that."_

"_It stinks Derek. And anyways, it's not my fault it conveniently found its way into the laundry basket."_

"_Nora!" he hissed. The women had a bad tendency to clean up after his mess. "But if you wash it, all the luck will be washed out," he said as though it were the most logical thing in the world. His face was green, and full of disdain._

"_Do you realize how pathetic you sound?" She gracefully jumped off the washer. The laundry within it was now sloshing around with great vigor. As soon as Casey left to go into the kitchen, he stopped the cycle, and ripped the door open (he waited until she wasn't looking as to best maintain his severely diminished dignity). Water flowed to the floor as he ripped out the sopping, soapy laundry. Piece by piece, he dropped each to the floor: Nora's jeans, Edwin's shirt, Casey's top, Casey's socks, Marti's dress, Casey's bra, George's jogging pants, Edwin's shorts, Casey's underwear (which, he noted in his frenzy, matched the bra), but no jersey. He peered into the machine and searched any blind spots with his hand. Nothing._

"_Casey!" Derek shook his hand dry, sending water drops hurling to the. It had all been a silly little prank. Her form of cruel revenge: get him all riled up and then make him look like a fool! His face lost its green coloring and quickly took on an angry red._

_Casey leaned casually against the doorframe, watching Derek's frantic search and realization with amusement. He turned to her, seething, but all she could do was emit an innocent "Oops. I guess I forgot to wash it." On her hand she dangled the jersey teasingly, with all its stench and grimy glory. He lurched forward. His hand pawed for it as though to grab it, much like a dog chasing its bone, but she had something else in mind._

_Casey stopped his attempt at reaching his shirt by forceful pushing him against the other side of the doorframe with a step forward and a hand upon his chest. He tried to reassure himself she had only gained the physical advantage over him, because he was momentarily distracted but her hold on him was surprisingly strong. He didn't dare move, yet._

"_Next time, I won't be as kind," she whispered menacingly into his ear. He gave a slight laugh. It wasn't the reaction Casey was looking for and her surprise gave him the upper-hand once more._

"_Case," he whispered, equally low into her ear before pushing her back onto the other side of the frame. His lips grazed her cheek, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Her breath slightly hitched in fear. The tables had turned. He paused, his hot breath tickling her ear, as he leaned closer to impart his final message, "Don't try to act dangerous. It doesn't suit you." _

_And with that he snatched the jersey out of his shocked step-sister's hands._

Casey blinked as the memory swept over her.

"Casey, you okay?"

"Hmm. Oh, yeah. Thanks for asking," she shrugged off the question.

"You just kinda spaced out there for a second. Sometimes I really worry what goes on in that head of yours, Case," Ryan gave a kind smile to her. She returned the gesture for reassurance, both for his sake and her own. Perhaps, she thought, if she told herself she was okay often enough, the statement would eventually become reality. So far it wasn't working.

They reached the end of their route and parted ways. Casey was about to make her way through the revolving doors but something caught her eye: A mop of messy auburn hair and a lanky body clad in a leather jacket and jeans whipped. But just as soon as she had spotted the familiar figure, he vanished. She shook her head. It couldn't be _him_- he was as good as dead. She dismissed the idea immediately. Her mind was just playing tricks on her again. Four years of therapy hadn't quite resolved all her issues she supposed. With a deep breath, she passed through the doors and went to her office.

A/N: So this chapter may have seemed a bit dull but it was necessary for the establishment of Casey's character. She's changed obviously, become an insomniac for reasons other than just Derek, has a good friend Ryan who thinks he's might be in love with Casey. She's also has been in therapy, for what- you don't know yet and is seeing people who aren't really there. Yup, she's a little bit crazy, but things are going to get crazier for her next chapter.

Question: Do you guys like the flashbacks? More or less of them?

Until next chapter- read and review please!


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

Her boss, Monsieur Jean Charbon, was waiting for her when Casey entered her office. She hastily made her way behind her desk dropping her bag to the floor.

"Pardon, Monsieur. I didn't think I was late, but I guess I was, seeing as you're here, in my office, and now I-"

Jean Charbon cut her off mid-ramble. "Mademoiselle Casey? You were not late. Quite the contrary, you are parfaitement à l'heure."

Casey looked at her watch. He was right. It was eight o'clock on the dot. She sighed, "I'm sorry, I haven't been having the best of mornings."

"Non, non. I understand complètement."

M. Charbon spoke with a heavy French accent. He was originally from Québec and the company hired him to appease the many French speaking people of Montréal in need of lawyers. He was a man of about 50 years of age, white hair mingling with coarse black hair. A charismatic speaker, his voice was calm and warm. Jean, his face was aged, but always held a benevolent smile, much like that of a loving father. Charbon treated Casey with kindness and fairness, as he did with all other employees under his watch. It did not go unnoticed to him that Casey was particularly pale today- in fact, he noted her skin was tinted with a green shade. She looked sickly.

"Tell me, Casey, are you feeling alright today? You look- pardon me saying- awful."

Casey sank into her chair. Thoughts of the Derek look-a-like outside crossed her mind once more. She had gotten over these issues of seeing Derek when he wasn't really there before. Her psychologists explained it as a mild hallucination, a figment of her wishful imagination. She had always felt that he would be tangible if she could just reach out and touch him- feel his soft skin on his face, or the rough calluses of his hands. But he always vanished an instant before she could reach him. Was this really just another instance of wishful thinking? Her heart gave a slight skip at the prospect of seeing him again.

"Yes… yes, of course I'm fine. I'm fine." She had been saying those two words a lot lately, but despite the repetition, it didn't make the lie reality. She wasn't "fine". She hadn't been "fine" for over nine years.

"Casey, perhaps, it would be best if you headed home for the day. You look as though you could use some rest."

"Really, I'm okay," she weakly protested.

"No, I insist upon it, Mam'selle . You have put more hours into your work than any other intern here. You should not feel guilty about taking a sick day."

Casey just nodded her head, eyes staring straight ahead, blank and devoid of any emotion. "I suppose that might be best."

"There's a girl. Now leave, merci beaucoup, before I call security," he added teasingly with a small smile and a wave of his hand. Charbon made his way out of the office and Casey obediently followed him out and locked the door behind her.

Charbon was about to make his way towards the elevators when Casey suddenly realized, "Monsieur, why were you in my office this morning? Was there anything you needed me to do?"

He chuckled quietly to himself and placed his hands upon his rather round stomach. "There was nothing. I merely wished to inform you, that you have earned a small promotion, but I think we will save the conversation for another day, non? Felicitations, Casey!"

Casey was disappointed in herself. By being so affected by a mere look-a-like, she had lost her chance at a promotion-okay, so perhaps she hadn't, but it had given Charbon another whole day to reconsider giving it to her. She had shown such weakness. Surely that wasn't what her boss was looking for in an employee. She shook her head again. She shouldn't have taken that sick day. She wasn't even sick! Casey was just…confused and agitated that someone could even resemble him. After all, there wasn't even a remote possibility that after nine years he would just show up at her doorstep, and decide to forgive her.

She unlocked her apartment door, dropped her bag on the ground and flopped onto her couch, not even bothering to take off her shoes. Letting out a deep sigh of resignation, she wondered what she should do with the rest of the day off.

"_Not think of Derek, for one." _She snorted at the thought. "_That'll be easy._"

Distraction was a necessity and Casey had plenty of options. There was the TV or the massive bookcase that took up most of the wall space. Yes, a book was just what she needed, Casey decided. With a book she could get lost in a fantasy world, where the heroine didn't suffer (much) and (almost) always got her happy ending. She perused her choices at great length before settling on a well-worn copy of Jane Austen's _Emma_, which was one of her favorite books. Emma's and Mr. Knightley's banter was just too good to resist. After brewing a strong cup of earl grey tea and changing into her comfiest yoga pants, she was ready to curl up on the couch and forget.

After reading a few chapters into the book, she had to put it back down. The parallels between Emma's loneliness and her own were too great.

Restless, she stood up once more and slipped on some shoes and her coat and walked out the door. And then she walked. She walked for over an hour, just wandering through the unfamiliar streets and alleys of Montréal. Occasionally she would stop to look in the window of a store, but for the most part she let her thoughts consume her mind. Eventually, Casey realized it was almost time for lunch. Ducking into a deli she got herself a small sandwich, tomato, mozzarella and pesto Panini, her usual. Déjà vu hit her hard.

_Two months had passed since Casey and Derek had arrived at Queens, and in that short time span they had seen each other twice: The day they were moving in and one time when they ran into each other at a local deli called Yats._

"_You know what's weird?" Casey had asked him, while they were waiting in line._

"_What's that, Case?"_

"_I think I actually kind of missed you. I was ecstatic to get rid of you at first, but now, I feel like there's something missing-"_

_Derek just grinned and avoided her eye, looking down at his feet._

"_Don't mock me Derek!" Casey gave him a not-exactly-civil punch in the shoulder._

"_Ow! Did I say anything?"_

"_No, but you were thinking it. I could tell. There was that glint in your eye."_

_Derek laughed and his grin became wolfish, "A glint? Really, princess. I think you need your glasses checked."_

"_I don't have glasses!"_

"_Maybe you should get some then."_

"_My eyes are twenty-twenty."_

"_Chill princess. I'm just teasing you. But I know what you mean."_

"_Huh?" _

"_That there's something that's missing." _

"_Oh yeah. I know, right? Wait, really?" She looked at him in disbelief, but Derek just smiled back at her, giving her a little nudge._

"_Pay attention Space-Case. It's your turn to order."  
_

"_Oh, tomato, mozzarella, and pesto Panini please."_

She remembered that day so clearly. It was late October, and everyone had finally started getting settled in for the long winter that was still to come. She just wanted to grab a quick lunch and there he had been, same leather jacket and jeans, same confident smirk plastered on his face, the one she simultaneously despised and yet found she missed seeing. They ended up sitting at Yats for the next two hours catching up, sans the immaturity that previously had permeated all their conversations (well, for the most part anyways- Derek couldn't resist teasing her occasionally). That day they had decided to meet at least bi-monthly at Yats, and bi-monthly became weekly and things took off from there. It was the beginning of the rekindling of their friendship. She smiled fondly at the memory. Where did all the good days go? _"Flushed down the toilet, and then flushed twice more for good measures." _Casey paused and then reprimanded her self for her incessant negativity.

By the time she had gotten back to her apartment, it was already getting dark. Casey had spent the entire afternoon wandering and window-shopping for over-priced things she really didn't need or want. When the autumn wind started picking up again, all Casey wanted was to be back in her warm apartment with a glass of wine in her hand. Her head had started to clear away all the dangerous thoughts of Derek drama, and began to fill with thoughts of the promotion that would be awaiting her in the morning. She smiled. Yes, everything would be fine if she just took one day at a time.

As she was pouring her wine she heard a knock on the door. Looking through the peep hole, she recognized that it was Ryan, nervously wringing his hands. She smiled and opened the door.

"Two visits in one day. Ryan, I'm flattered."

He usual kind smile didn't meet his lips. Instead, she noticed, he was frowning. "Where've you been, Casey. We were supposed to meet for lunch today, like every Tuesday, but you never showed. I tried calling you, but your cell was off. Is everything alright?"

Casey felt like smacking herself. She had totally forgotten. "I'm so sorry Ryan! I'm an awful friend. Seriously, I 'm sorry. I was just- distracted today. It's not like me at all to miss important things like that."

"I know it's not Case, that's why I'm worried about you. Are you feeling alright?" He took her gently by the shoulders and brought her towards him a little. His dark brown eyes looked into her blue ones with warm concern.

She gave a large exhale. "Sometimes it's hard to say. Look, I'm sorry-"

"You've mentioned that." Ryan gave a small smile.

" And I mean it. Let me make it up to you. Join me for wine. Right now."

"I think that might be acceptable as a means for compensation. Though I don't know if it will cover the deeply traumatizing experience of not being able to contact an MIA friend."

"Come inside goofball. And close the door behind you."

"Yes, ma'am."

Finally getting settled on the couch with their wine, the two friends fell into light conversation about the day.

"So, Casey," Ryan started in a much quieter tone.

"Yes, Ryan?"

"I'm sorry. I really don't mean to pry, but are you sure there's nothing you want to tell me about. Nothing about 'him'?"

Casey suddenly found the flute of her wineglass very interesting. She took another sip before finding the courage to answer him.

"I though I saw- no. Never mind. Ryan, I really want to tell you everything, I wish I could. But, it's just too hard for me. I hope you understand."

Ryan sighed in resignation. "Of course I understand, Casey. Some things are meant to be kept secret. But just remember, some secrets eat you alive. If you ever want to talk- Just know I'm here for you, Case."

"I know you are Ryan. And I really appreciate you putting up with my bull."

"It's my pleasure."

They smiled at each other in mutual understanding, completely silent other than the occasional sipping at their wine. The calm silence was interrupted by yet another knock at the door. Casey excused herself and got up to answer it. She wondered who it might be. She didn't know many people in Montréal other than Ryan and the people she worked with. It was too late for a delivery.

She looked through the peephole but couldn't recognize who it was. The persons back was turned towards the door and the person was wearing a beanie. Cautiously she opened the door and the person spun around. She gasped in shock at the sight of the familiar face and slammed the door shut again.

"It can't be," she whispered to herself in disbelief.

A/N: Hate to leave it on a cliffhanger but... it can't be helped. Anyways I would like to thank my new beta cherrynuts! As well as my reviewers, hopefully you guys are still with me. I know it's been a while, but life get's in the way of writing, unfortunately.

Please review! Reviews are good for the soul- I want to know what you think. Was it awful, dull? Did you love it so far, are you intrigued? Drop a line in a review and I will be ever so happy. Next chapter it gets exciting!


End file.
